Fermata
by SilverMedals
Summary: Fermata - I don't want this to end just yet. Seven love stories - if only things had turned out differently. For Caesar's Palace's second shipping week event.
1. Chapter 1

The brisk air is harsh, nothing like the warm breezes that District Four brought at dusk. Annie pulls her coat closer around her and her knees closer to her chest. For a moment she toys with the book beside her.

"Finnick," Annie calls out. "Are you sure we're allowed to be up here?"

"Yeah. In my Games, the escort told us to check it out if we couldn't sleep. Ruthie was-"

"I know, I know. Ruthie was smart, Ruthie was sensitive, Ruthie was sexy," Annie jests, a gentle smile playing on her lips.

"Hey! That was one time!" Finnick exclaims. Annie chuckles, staring into the sky. Sliding her hand along the concrete floor of the roof, she nestles her cold hand in his warm one.

"Maybe it was, but all I know is that you were hot for your escort when you were fifteen."

"Oh, my god, Annie, you're relentless." Finnick playfully punches Annie in the shoulder, rolling his eyes. Annie hits him back, harder. Finnick's next hit is harder than that.

"Ow," Annie says playfully. She leans on his shoulder, clutching his hand. "I love you," she murmurs, kissing his hand.

"Mm-hmm. You too."

Their eyes catch on each other, two pairs of sea green eyes in the dim light of the Training Center roof. Annie picks up her head and pulls Finnick's lips gently to hers. When they meet, Annie only knows a world where they can spend forever on this roof.


	2. Chapter 2

Cato draws back his blood-slicked sword, firmly tucking it into his belt. Peeta crumples to his knees, struggling for breath.

"My god, what the fuck did you do? We had an agreement!" Katniss shouts, whirling around.

A cannon booms, and Katniss looks at Cato despairingly. "Yeah, we did! But he wasn't gonna make it anyway!"

"And that means you get to just stab him?" Katniss rises, her hands on her hips.

"The agreement was that if you and I were the last two, we would have to kill each other without our weapons. Now we're the last two!" exclaims Cato.

"That was a stupid agreement, you know," Katniss counters, glaring at Cato. In the dim light, the blood on his face is still discernible. She shoves him firmly, and he stumbles backwards, his foot meeting the edge of the cornucopia.

He pushes her back, and she clutches the edges of his jacket, pulling him to the golden weave with her. They wait in stalemate for a few minutes, tightly gripping the edge of the cornucopia. Then the rain starts, beating down on them.

"You killed Peeta. We could have both made it out," Katniss says bitterly.

"See, this is perfect proof that you never loved him in the first place," Cato responds.

Katniss's eyes widen. She opens her mouth to protest, but realizes that he's _right_. She doesn't love Peeta. She stares into Cato's steely grey eyes, her jaw set.

"I want to kill you," Cato admits, eyeing the ground. The mutts huddle in the cornucopia, baring their teeth at those who do not fit.

"Great. It's mutual." Katniss pauses. "Then why don't you?"

Cato ponders this. "It's incredibly hard to kill someone you love."

"You've got to be kidding me!" Katniss exclaims, standing abruptly. She retreats to the tail of the cornucopia, her arms crossed. "What happened to being a cocky asshole and that being the end of it?"

"What happened to you being this girl that-"

"Stop it!" she interrupts. She turns, her damp hair flying out around her. They're staring at each other in the dark, grey eyes meeting at dusk.

Her dark hair is wet and sweat beads on her forehead. She reaches behind her shoulder for the final arrow in her quiver, but her hand falls as the tips of her fingers brush the fletching.

She closes her eyes. "Okay."

"Okay what?"

"Okay this." She steps forward and presses her lips to his. When she pulls away, disgusted, he smiles. The slightest hint of a smile makes its way onto her lips, as well.

Cato draws a small handful of nightlock from the leather pouch Katniss had left for him. "I'm not leaving without you," he says, placing a single berry in each of their hands.

"Me neither."

But when Cato places the berry on his tongue, Katniss throws hers down for the mutts to fight for.


	3. Chapter 3

"So, Effie, what's your _real_ name?" Haymitch asks, sloshing his drink around in its glass.

She is perched on the arm of the couch. "Well, _Mitch_, what do you mean?" she responds, her hands on his shoulder, leaning towards him. Her bosom threatens to spill out of the low neckline of her blue dress. She kisses him gently above his ear, combing through his hair.

"I mean- your name. Effie has to be short for something." He turns, and their lips meet. He tastes of alcohol, and she of cherry lip gloss. That is how it always tastes when she kisses Haymitch Abernathy, and she's simply gotten used to it.

"You mean you don't know?" she guffaws, fawning over him. "My name is Effervescent Trinket. Effervescent was too gaudy a name for even the Capitol. So they just called me Effie."

"I never knew that," Haymitch remarks. He sips at the last of his drink, his hand resting on her thigh.

"We've been married two years, you know. . ."

"Mm. . ._that_ I know. Two years tomorrow." He smiles, and she smiles back, leaning down to press her lips to his, and it's the first time she can ignore the alcohol on his breath.


	4. Chapter 4

He wades in the salty water, clutching her dying body to his chest. "It's all okay, Wiress, it's okay, I promise," he murmurs, stroking her wet hair. She opens her mouth, saying nothing.

The cannon does not ring out. Blood gushes from her slit neck. "Hickory. . .dickory. . .dock," she says, barely intelligible.

"Yes, yes, that's right. The mouse runs up the-"

"Clock," she interrupts, reaching for his shoulder.

"And when the clock struck one. . ." he urges, holding her tighter.

She does not answer, but still, there is no cannon. "Bee. . .tee. . ." she whispers. "I love. . .you."

Then the cannon rings out and Beetee's tears fall into the water. "251 million gallons and one quarter teaspoon," he says, letting Wiress's body drift into the lagoon.


	5. Chapter 5

Katniss's scarred, bony hand rests in Johanna's calloused one. "Stay with me," Katniss begs, head on her lover's shoulder.

"I can't. Business trip to the Capitol, remember?" Johanna says sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"And you're doing this. . .why, again?"

"Katniss, I've told you a million-"

"I like how you say it," says Katniss, her eyes pleading.

"Well, it's simple. If I fuck strangers, then Snow doesn't kill my brother."

"So you're doing this for a _boy_?" Katniss taunts, her eyebrows raised. Johanna's pumps are in a pile near her feet, and her tight dress is unzipped. Katniss's hand traces the curves of Johanna's waist, leaving kisses along her arm.

"There are two exceptions to that rule, and Ever is one of them. Ugh, that reminds me. _Boys. _I'm a bit surprised I haven't puked all over one of my clients yet. They're so disgusting."

"Yeah, I bet they are. Just kiss me before you leave. And let me zip up your dress." Katniss smiles, standing. Johanna stands beside her, hair pulled over one shoulder. Katniss struggles with the zipper before pulling it up. "I've never seen you in a sexier dress," she admits. Johanna's neon yellow dress hugs her curves and falls just inches past her hips.

"Yeah, well you've seen me in a classier dress," Johanna says bitterly, pulling her hair back over her shoulder. "That red one-"

"With the white polka-dots. I love that dress."

"No, you love _me_ in that dress," Johanna jests, hands on her hips.

"Well, no one could look any better in that dress. You know I'm right," says Katniss, her head on Johanna's shoulder.

Johanna's bracelet vibrates. Tears well in her eyes. "I guess it's time to go save my brother," she says.

"No." Their lips connect and tears fall to the ground beneath them. "Love you," Katniss says softly.


	6. Chapter 6

**Please note that I have no way of determining what champagne _really _tastes like. **

The sheets are stark white and Finnick waits under them, running a hand through his hair. "Babe, you ready?" he asks, the words foreign on his tongue.

"Just a-" A loud crash comes from her hotel bathroom. "Second!"

"It's okay. I'll wait," he consoles, adjusting the sheets. This girl isn't like the others. The others are far hastier.

"Sorry I'm taking so long. I'm new at this," she calls.

"I figured," Finnick says. "Me, too." He waits a moment more, primping the pillows and sitting up further.

"Am I that obvious?" she asks. Another crash comes from the bathroom. Finnick's hand grips the sheet, twisting it around his fingers. It's his fourth time, but still it doesn't feel right to be in a stranger's bed. "I, um. . .I'll just be a minute more."

Finnick doesn't respond. He steps out of bed, pulling on a blue button-down shirt. The door opens slowly, and he turns. She has long, dark blue tresses and a small frame. This girl cannot be eighteen. She wears a simple, navy-blue blouse and a white skirt. The only thing at all Capitol about her are her deep, purple eyes, fixated on the hem of his shirt. "Well, if you're going to dress up for me, I might as well return the favor," Finnick says, smiling.

"Oh, god, no, I didn't dress up for you, but - I mean, pants would be nice." She chuckles. Finnick pulls on a pair of white, Capitol-issued pants. "Though you are quite handsome wearing just a shirt," she jests, a smile creeping onto her face.

"Would you like to go to the Snowlie?" he asks. Finnick gestures towards the twinkling lights in a restaurant below. "You know, since you're all dressed up."

"I'd love that, Finnick," she says, purple eyes bright. She places her hand in his and grabs her coat from the hook.

The Snowlie has a bright blue coat of paint, and its name is written in swirly white font on a sign above the door. He is still holding her hand, and it does not feel right - her hand is cold. His shakes, a reminder of how wrong this feels - how wrong this _is._

They're sitting at a table for two, menus in hand. The tablecloth is ice are two glasses of champagne on the table, but each hesitates - he knows neither are old enough.

"You know, Finnick, you're not as much of an asshole as the Capitol lets off," she remarks, the glass in her hand.

"That's nice to hear," he says, his eyes bright but his mouth twisted into a grimace."You know, I never caught your name."

She smiles. As she opens her mouth to speak, the waiter approaches, a snowflake-capped pen in hand. "What'll the pretty lady have tonight?" he asks, hot-pink eyebrows raised. His Capitol accent is prominent and high-pitched.

"I'll have the duck, hold the citrus sauce. White rice instead of the brown rice, and I'd like a mug of the, um, Snowflake Stew," she says expertly, back straighter.

The waiter pokes the air with his pen twice."And you, Sir Odair?" the waiter asks, glaring inquisitively at his head.

"I'll have the chicken, extra citrus sauce. The brown rice is fine, and I'd like a large glass of the Snowflake Syrup," he says, a smile bright on his face. The girl across from him scowls as the waiter leaves.

"What the hell was that?" she exclaims, slamming her half-full champagne glass on the table.

"What do you mean?" he asks, lifting his glass. He sips at it for a moment. It tastes like the blue champagne he's had before - a sweet, pungent wine. Somehow it tastes more delicate.

"You're supposed to order what your partner orders. That's why they ask the women first!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"Oh, wait, never mind. I get it. You're the cheap asshole who makes your girlfriend canned soup instead of taking them to a restaurant." She sighs, indignant.

_You can never lose a customer. _"I'm so sorry. " But he is not sorry. "Anyway, um, I didn't catch your. . .name."

"It's Arlington. After the great city that the Capitol was once, three hundred years ago," she says.

"I've never heard that name before. It's beautiful," he says, forcing his face into a smile.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you. I suppose they don't have restaurants like this back in Four," Arlington says, her reproachful glare quickly switching back to her cheerful purple eyes.

"This is actually the first time I've ever been to a Capitol restaurant. President Snow _personally_ recommended the Snowlie to me," he says. He lifts his glass. The champagne sloshes and his hand totters.

"Isn't President Snow always right?" Arlington asks. She bites her lip, smiling brightly.

"But if you've-"

She shoots him with a glare that can only mean, _One complaint notice and you sweetie back home goes without a head._

He swallows, adjusting the hang of his shirt. "Yeah, we're pretty, um, lucky to have such a great president. I hear the Polish Republic up north has a-"

Arlington scoffs, scornful. "How would you know about the Polish Republic? Only someone with a level twelve Capitol education gets to take an international course, and even if you do get to take that course, you don't learn-"

"You're not a level twelve! You're not even sixteen-"

She draws out a paper pad and a pen, scribbling furiously. This is it. Finnick stands up from the table, throwing his chair back. "If you sit right back down, I won't file my complaint." Arlington smirks.

Finnick sits, blinking back tears.


End file.
